


The Little Mouse

by TheEnduringStoryteller



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, But it's between the female character and the others. :P, Declarations Of Love, F/M, I don't expect people to read this, Love Triangles, Mystery, Romance, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, State your ships in the comments, Universe Alterations, but if you do, please comment, you are all beautiful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnduringStoryteller/pseuds/TheEnduringStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosemary Winters does not see herself to be anything special, but she soon becomes a part of a three part team of men, two cold men with big brains and one man with a warm heart. Will she find her place among them or will she convert to the enemy's side? Either way, Rose will have to discover her own identity in this supposed all boys club.</p><p>(I make most of my stories as xReaders especially because more people tend to read them. But this one just seemed to not fit in that style. I hope you all will give it a chance and hopefully enjoy it regardless.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mouse Enters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make most of my stories as xReaders especially because more people tend to read them. But this one just seemed to not fit in that style. I hope you all will give it a chance and hopefully enjoy it regardless.

Sherlock was drumming his fingers against the end table beside the couch. His posture was slouched and he was staring a hole into the opposite wall, as if it were the reason for his boredom. Meanwhile poor John heard the beat as if it were being played in his very eardrums over and over again until he twitched and finally had to say something. "Can you please stop that incessant tapping? It's driving me up a wall."

"I am not thinking John. I even irritate myself at times like this." Sherlock mumbled.

"What do you mean? You're always thinking." John said but immediately Sherlock retorted, "Yes I know that. I am very aware of that, but right now I am a car that's running but going nowhere. I begin to go mad. Unless...." Sherlock drifted, his eyes glancing to where he kept his drugs.

"No, no, no. Look Sherlock you just have to be patient. London is filled with deplorable people there is bound to be-" There was a knock at the door. John gave his friend an "I-told-you-so" look as he opened the door. It was only Mrs. Hudson, which made Sherlock scoff at John's previous optimism.

"Hello boys, I just thought you might like some tea and biscuits." The older woman said cheerfully as John led her inside. She set the silver tray down then put her hand in her apron pocket. "Oh, John." She started as she pulled out a piece of paper. "A young lady downstairs wanted me to give this to you." She explained without a hint of nosiness, though perhaps a bit of curiosity.

Sherlock was now laying on the couch, looking at the ceiling. "If you are going to seduce women John, you should at least keep them from coming when I am here."

John just made a simple hum in response, barely humoring his friend as he opened the note. "Why didn't she just come in to see us?" John asked as he read the note.

Mrs. Hudson wiped down her apron with her hands as she answered him, "I asked her. She said it would be rude for her to waste Sherlock's time. So instead, she handed me this and told me to give it to you, because she said you might persuade him better than she ever could."

Sherlock stopped drumming his fingers on the coffee table and instead placed the tips of his fingers together in a bit of a triangle, touching his chin.

John read the note aloud. "Name: Rosemary Winters. Case: A manipulative fiancé. Threatens to kill himself if I leave. I fear he is lying about his true nature. Admittedly, I am too soft hearted to risk being held responsible for his death. Additional notes: Thank you for your time, I am sorry for the inconvenience." John paused as he spoke his thoughts. "She really is a meek girl isn't she?"

"Yet not entirely stupid… This is why emotions are a weakness John. A smart girl trapped because of her own heart." Sherlock said rather coldly.

"I assume you won't be taking the case then?" John said.

"Yes."

John looked confused as he looked at Sherlock. "Yes you won't take the case or yes-"

"I am taking the case." Sherlock said decidedly, then got up to put on his coat as John was left to take in why on Earth his friend had chosen this case. Sherlock usually hated things that involved a man or woman wanting him to investigate whether or not their mate was cheating or lying to them. It was beneath him he felt. And honestly, John couldn't quite blame him.

As John followed Sherlock, he noticed him scan the area. However, he wasn't sure what he was doing that for. "How do you know she will still be around, or even what she looks like?"

"If I explained everything John, we would get nowhere." Sherlock paused when he saw a small brunette woman. "Ah, there is our client." He said as he approached her.

The little woman turned and noticed Sherlock in disbelief. "Mr. Holmes? You've taken my case?"

"Yes. Call me Sherlock and follow me." He said briskly.

Soon Rose sat where many a client has sat. In a chair positioned between Sherlock and John as they sat on either side. Sherlock examined her, his eyes darting over her as if she were a landscape of evidence before he leaned back a bit. "The name of your fiancé?"

"Jason. Jason Wright." Rose spoke quietly and held her hands together softly.

"And you want to leave him, why?"

Rose shook her head. "I never told him that I wanted to leave him. I told him that I had found some papers of his and I was worried and wanted some space for a while and that if and when he could sort things out that I would-"

"What papers?" Sherlock interrupted.

"More like photos actually. They were of different places and people, and some documents that had a persona of himself. I asked him about it and he said it just helped him think things through. But it was so detailed and it… well it mentioned about marrying a girl for a cover."

"And you left soon after."

"No. I should have. But I loved him… I saw in his eyes his love for me, his voice, and somehow I couldn't, and still can't, comprehend a person lying so easily to someone…"

"I see… Well, luckily for you, I can." Sherlock said with a brief smile. John was about to scold Sherlock for being so cold to her but surprisingly he saw that woman seemed to actually brighten up at his statement. Sherlock continued, "What is his address? I will also need his schedule. When is he likely to be home?"

"He lives in a little apartment down on Paulson Street. Flat 32, address 1290. I'll write it down." Rose said and John gave her a piece of paper. As she began scribbling Sherlock noticed something. "You're awfully calm for someone who is worried about their fiancé betraying you."

Rose had a tiny little sad smirk as she looked down. "I'm not a stranger to being taken advantage of." She said, without going into further explanation. Sherlock liked that she seemed to know that nothing was important to him except the case. John was not so cold however. "I am sorry to hear that Miss Winters." Sherlock got up and paced the floor.

"Don't be, there are worse ways to live I'm sure." Rose said with a little smile, particularly to John.

"You forgot to tell me his schedule." Sherlock spoke up, stopping his movement to look at her.

"He is not consistent. But I have figured a pattern, and tomorrow he will most likely be gone from 6pm to 9 pm. I never realized how odd his behavior was because I don't live with him."

"Naturally." Sherlock said quickly then looked at John. "It seems we have an appointment tomorrow." He wore a delighted, yet suppressed smile. "Miss Winters I'll need you to tag along."

John looked startled. "Why Sherlock?"

"She knows where the evidence is and I don't want to waste time. I assume you have no qualms." He said to Rose now.

She smirked a little. "Not at all. Let's expose that bastard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All kudos and comments are so much appreciated. :)


	2. The Game is On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Abusive Relationship

The following night Sherlock, John, and Rose were waiting in a car parked a block away from the apartment in question. Rose had binoculars as she watched for him to come out.

John was nervous, tapping his foot. Sherlock huffed, annoyed. "You're never nervous. It's the girl isn't it?"

"No its not the girl. It's-" John grunted in frustration. "Alright it's the girl." He admitted begrudgingly. "I worry for her. Sherlock, she is just a small thing, she could get hurt."

"I could say the same to you, but I still bring you along." Sherlock scoffed with a dash of humor.

John gave him a look. "That's not the same thing, and I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I have gotten you out of quite a few scrapes you know."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The gun is the equalizer John. It doesn't matter your size."

"I see him." Rose said. "He is getting into someone's car… G064GTC"

Sherlock had to admire her attention to detail, not that he actually gave it much thought like John might. It was just the slightest, smallest form of an idea like a brief breeze. “Good. Write that down John, and let’s go.”

Soon the three were walking down the street towards the darkened apartment complex. Rose began climbing the fire escape. John followed her. “How will we get in through here?” He asked.

“A few days ago I kept this window unlocked. I was preparing for if Sherlock might actually take my case.” Rose explained.

John looked impressed. “Clever.” If Sherlock was impressed he certainly didn’t show it.

Rose then slipped her fingers under the smallest little crack that she had left open, just enough for her tiny fingers to squeeze under before she used her strength to tug the window open. She slipped inside gracefully then looked around.

Sherlock followed after John entered the room and Rose was already gone. She peeked out from behind the doorway in the next room and waved for them to follow. She opened the drawer then gave the papers to Sherlock. The detective moved to the yellow glow of the street lamp near one of the windows and looked over the information and pictures she had spoken about. “There is an addition, a picture of you.”

“Yes. I thought it was because he…” Rose stopped herself.

“What is it Rose?” John asked.

“I thought he kept that picture because he loved me… He was always taking pictures.” She sighed.

Sherlock mumbled, “At least now you can learn from this hm?”

“Sherlock.” John snapped.

Sherlock was not phased however. “Your fiancé here is a part of a major-“

“He’s here.” Rose said tensely. “Go. I’ll get the information we need.” Rose said, then started to push them out.

“What makes you say he’s here?” John asked.

“I heard a car coming down the street, his has a particular sound, like the engine is bubbly.”

“Bubbly?”

“Yes, bubbly. Now go.” Rose urged and pushed them more. The sound of a motor being turned off was heard, then there were voices. “Please go. I can’t have him know that I hired you, it would ruin everything. Please.” Rose begged. Her eyes were full of tears, and John felt so sorry for the girl.

“I’m staying with her.” John decided.

Sherlock was already halfway out the window when he heard John. “Nonsense.”

“She can’t be here alone when he comes, and you’re staying too. Now come on.” John said and left to find a good place to hide. Sherlock shook his head. He didn’t like this. Honestly, he thought that the girl was right to want them gone, but John clearly was dead set on making sure that the little female wasn’t harmed. John hid in the bedroom closet while Sherlock hid in the coat room closet. Rose was sitting on the worn down armchair at the front of the room. The door clicked open and soon there was a shadow at the doorway. The light flicked on and revealed Rose.

“What are you doing here?” The tall, grungy looking man asked her as he put his keys on the table.

“I had a bad dream." Rose said, making the other brunette laugh. "A bad dream eh? Wanna sleep in my bed?"

Rose made a face. "Truth is I got a call from Ricky tonight. It sounded like you were in trouble."

"Fucking meddler. I wish he would just do his job." He hissed. His feet were quiet… Rose spoke up, "Need a light?" 

"That's a girl." He grunted in that raspy voice and took out his cigarette, then Rose took out her lighter for him and lit it.

Sherlock knew what she was doing, she wanted him to smoke so they could smell him if he got too close. He smirked a bit at the thought.

"So what'd he say?" He asked.

"He said something about you failing every job you had. He said M wasn't going to be happy about you. What is that supposed to mean?" Rose asked.

"Hell if I know." He shrugged and leaned against the coat room, where Sherlock was hiding.

"But what does he mean by job? I thought-"

"It would be best if you shut your mouth." He hissed then went to the bedroom. Rose followed, feeling nervous for John. "I love you." Rose said meekly to the man who had tattoos on his left arm and a scruffy face. He wasn't bad looking but he didn't look exactly trustworthy either. "Oh I know you do darling." He grinned and went to her and started to kiss her neck, running his hand down her side. He murmured in her ear, "It's a shame M told me not to fuck you…"

Rose winced. "Yeah… a real shame." She muttered spitefully.

Sherlock couldn't hear their last few sentences but still he began to be suspicious… There was definitely more to this case than he originally suspected.

"Are you going to be here tomorrow?" Rose asked meekly and gently touched his hand.

"Nah, got work." He said then breathed in more of the tabacco. 

"What kind of work? Is it dangerous?" 

"Enough." He shrugged then breathed in more smoke then exhaled, making Rose cough. "Oh, sorry baby. Sensitive?"

"A bit." She choked.

John groaned internally. 'How could she love someone like that?' He thought.

"Listen. Don't question me okay I-"

"But where are you going? What if you don't come back?" She whimpered then put her arms around him, gently touching his back pockets as she pressed against him. 

"Aw don't worry babe." He took another hit and blew it away from her. "I'll be back when I need to be." He said. "Now go." He said and pulled away from her. Rose deftly slipped something into her back pocket. He caressed her hip with his rough, tatooed hand. "Go sit tight at your post." 

"My post?"

"Your apartment." He said, rolling his eyes. He looked at her up and down. "Damn I want to fuck you."

"I'll go." Rose said, keeping her meek demeanor as she turned to leave. As she put her hand on the doorknob he took her free one. "I've had enough of this skirting around." He grunted.

Rose opened the door a bit but he shut it then pinned her against the wall, taking in another puff and this time blowing it in her face. She winced then coughed. "You shouldn't do this-"

"You think I really give a damn what anyone thinks? Besides. No one has to know… right?" He smirked and gently touched her cheek down to her collarbone. She knew Sherlock would stay put, but she was worried John might do something.

"But Jason-"

"Hey, you said you loved me right? Well… this is what lovers do." He said, like a snake trying to seduce a mouse.

"I-I don't want to." She whimpered, making herself show tears.

"You don't have to want it baby. You just have to lie there and take it." He hissed, kissing under her ear.

The sound of their voices carried through the small flat and John gently opened the closet door.

Rose heard the sound and swallowed hard, luckily Jason was too consumed with lust to notice. "What is going to happen?" She asked.

"I think you know…" He grunted and kissed her shoulder.

"No, with M. I need to know-"

"I've gotta run a few errands for him, kill a few people, cause chaos, distract that Sherlie." He chuckled and started to undo the front buttons of her shirt. 

She heard John slowly walk out of the closet and her heart raced. John needed to stay put, he had to.

"Steal things? Kill people? You never told me-"

"It's implied babe." He said, running his hands down her hips. She forced them up to her breasts instead and he licked his lips. "Mmm… excited now?"

"Y-You know that little clock?"

"Ah the decoder…" He mumbled, losing his mind and becoming loose lipped as he kissed her soft skin.

"I wanted to see if I could figure it-" Rose started but Jason grabbed her roughly and she squeaked before she was practically malled by him. He was ripping at her clothes and when she had tried to squirm away he slapped her face hard. That's when John grabbed at him from behind and put him in a choke hold. "Bastard." John grunted as Jason turned red, then went limp.

Sherlock came out and looked peeved. "Nice work John." He said with dry wit.

Rose looked sympathetic for John as she tried to cover herself up.

"I couldn't let him do that to her." John said sternly then came to Rose. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Thank you." Rose said gently and touched his arm kindly. "I was intending to leave because I had gotten this," Rose said and showed the cannister of film. "but since he was so determined I figured I could get more info." Rose explained.

"Well at least one of you knew what you were doing." Sherlock muttered as he looked around.

"And if we weren't here then what?" John asked, upset.

"Then she would have gotten all of the information." Sherlock said coldly and examined Jason.

Rose came to John and hugged him then pulled away and smiled. "You're a good man John. Thank you."

John looked meek and a bit shy from the attention.

Sherlock huffed as he walked around, analyzing the room. "You shouldn't encourage his crush, it will only make it worse."

John stuttered. "I-I do not have a crush-"

"This man means to kill me." Sherlock decided. "And John is probably right to keep you from sleeping with him. He's been with multiple women."

"Sherlock." Rose said, then handed him the small cannister of film. "I can't have him know that you are on the case. He will just change his plans and make it harder for you to expect what he is up to."

"Fair enough. Come on John." Sherlock said and headed towards the front door.

John looked absolutely apalled. "Have you learned nothing? We can't just leave her like this."

Sherlock looked extremely aggitated. "And what do you suggest?"

 

John looked conflicted so Rose intervened. "I will let him be, trash the place and leave. The window will be open so he will just assume that someone robbed him or that one of his many enemies knocked him out but not know who."

"You're very adept for a lovestruck woman." Sherlock commented a bit suspiciously.

"I did love him. But I needed extra proof for me to believe that he was a jerk. I am so strange that way. And now that I know he is a monster, I want to stop him, at all costs." She said determinedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone reading this, you are fabulous darling, just wonderful. :D hehe


	3. Run to 221B

That night Sherlock locked himself away in the bathroom in the dark to develop the photos from the cannister that Rose had provided. When he was done and the pictures were hanging above the bathtub, he came back out. He seemed so thoughtful.

"What is it Sherlock?" John asked.

"That girl. She is far too clever. Of course I mean in comparison to the rest of the population."

"And that… bothers you?"

"Yes. And how did she know that he would have a cannister of film in his back pocket?" Sherlock frowned, he was pacing now.

"You think she is working for them?"

"Could be."

"Then why would she warn us?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful as John continued to speak. "You know facts Sherlock, but I know people. She's a humble girl, maybe we aren't getting the full picture but she's a good woman."

"You're letting your emotions get the best of you John." Sherlock scolded in a mumble.

"No, I'm not." John said sternly, but in his eyes Sherlock could see that he fancied Rose.

"We will be cautious none the less."

"Of course."

"Hm." Sherlock hummed. As he had suspected, there was more intruige to this case than one might have originally guessed.

A few minutes later Sherlock went back into the makeshift dark room and came out with the photos. "People, places. This is the original from the papers she had given us. But, with a few new additions." Sherlock said. He saw pictures of various interiors of buildings, different people… two of Rose as well. He put the pictures down on the table for John to see.

"Why would they target her?" John asked.

"She's small, meek. Easy to manipulate since her heart is so big." Sherlock shrugged. "The why's don't really matter. From this I can gather that they intend to blow up this building and cause mass murder all in the hopes of distracting me enough so that my guard will be down."

"So what do we do?" John asked.

"We get them first."

Little did they know that the following night everything would change.

At said evening Rose was forced into a warehouse where she sat on a chair across from a thin, psychotic man with eyes and a voice to match, his back was facing her from across a small table. "Hello Rose." He said then turned around. His voice was dull and emotionless which made him just that more chilling. Rose stayed quiet then looked down meekly. "Moriarty."

"You should know better than sneaking around behind my back." He said as he leaned forward against the table.

Rose gulped softly. "I just thought it might help."

"And how would telling Sherlie help me any?"

Rose licked her lips nervously as two big men stared at her threateningly. She stayed quiet for a little while. "I thought if he could trust me then I could misdirect him. I gave him a fake cannister. This is the real one, s-see? It will make it even harder for him to stop your men."

Moriarty hummed and took the film cannister. He opened it and saw that it was in fact the original. "Good girl. But let me do the thinking from now on, hmm?"

Rose nodded meekly. "Yes sir."

Moriarty glanced at the door. "Let her go." He said, then Rose immediately hurried out. She feared he would soon realize that the film was just a reproduction that she had made to fool him. She feared for her life. She wasn't thinking, she just ran. She sprinted all the way to 221b Baker Street.

Twenty minutes later John looked out the window and saw Rose panting and running towards their flat. "Sherlock, it's Rose." He said with some urgency.

Sherlock got up calmly and looked out the window. A black car headed towards her down the street so both John and Sherlock ran down the stairs and just as they got the front door open, the black car's back door opened and a man tried to pull her inside. Rose screamed, her face contorted into fear. John pulled out his gun and aimed for the driver and shot but just barely missed. The driver pushed the gas pedal while Rose was still hanging out of the car. Sherlock ran the other way and hailed a cab. 

Once the taxi stopped, Sherlock went around and threw the driver out. "You don't need this right?" He asked then took off after the black car. Rose was still hanging out of it and she was trying to pull herself free before the car got too fast but that soon was not going to be a possibility and all at once she was pulled inside. The door slammed shut by itself.

The man in the back immediately took out his gun and aimed for her head. She ducked as he shot and he blew out a window because of that. John had been running all the while and Sherlock drove on the opposite side of traffic. He was about to get hit head on by another car but he yanked on the wheel to the side so he slammed into the mysterious black car instead. Rose had braced herself so she wasn't too bad off but her enemy had gotten knocked around. Sherlock sped up and nearly missed crashing again before he knocked into the hood of the car and smashed it into a pole. John had been running as fast as he could while Rose tried to get out. The large man found his gun soon however and was about to shoot. John saw this and stopped then aimed. His hand was shaky and he was scared that he would miss, or worse, hit Rose. He took a deep breath then squeezed the trigger.

The bullet pierced the glass and went straight through the man's head. Rose was panting like a little rabbit might when scared. John ran to her and helped her out of the car. "Are you alright?"

Rose nodded, still looking stunned.

Sherlock grabbed the driver out by his shirt and took his gun. "Take Rose back to the flat, I'll follow behind. When you get there, call for Lestrade."

John nodded then put his arm around Rose and kept her close. He was still shaking. Rose looked sympathetic. "You did good John. You saved my life, even though I was very stupid to come here."

"No, not at all. I'm glad that you see this as being a safe place." John said with a sweet smile.

"But I could have gotten you or Sherlock killed. I-"

"But you didn't, and you should never blame yourself for wanting to live." John said compassionately yet sternly, to show how important this was for her to remember.

Rose nodded and looked down. "It's just, you and Sherlock are so important to the world. People like me, we are supposed to keep the important ones safe."

"I'm just like you Rose. Except less clever." He said with a little smile as he led her down the street. The sidewalk glistened from the fresh rain, the light glittering along the streets. 

"But you help Sherlock so much. I know you must." Rose said, then when they reached the doorway she wiped her feet on the mat. She glanced back at Sherlock to make sure he was okay and he was. John led her up the stairs then sat her on the couch and put a blanket on her. 

When Sherlock entered the room he put the convict in handcuffs. Rose was still talking to John, not realizing that he had entered. "And Sherlock is just too important for someone like me to ruin that. I'm just a speck in this whole world. Who am I to think that my life really matters in the grand scheme of things? It would be rather egotistical for me to think that the whole world would cease if I were dead."

John frowned. "But what is Sherlock accomplishing if not for us specks, hm?" He asked with a little smile.

Rose chuckled. "I suppose that's true, but you're no speck John. You're special too."

John smiled, but he didn't believe her. "I am but a humble helper."

"Oh hush." Rose chuckled then ruffled his hair.

Sherlock listened to all of this with interest. Maybe it was his ego that made him finally see this, but she really was a clever girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I am writing this without any particular love interest set, I'm letting it be organic and slowly build relationships with all of them. I hope you enjoy that :)
> 
> As always I adore comments and likes and anyone reading this is a treasure to me.
> 
> I hope you are all doing well!


	4. Bread for Ducks

The next afternoon Rose walked up the steps of a rather elegant and expensive looking government building. It was almost Greek in style with the white and ivory columns. She wore a smart black pencil skirt and a pretty blue top as well as a big white hat. She was escorted to an office at the very back of the building. The word 'office' didn't give it justice. It was a large room with a piano at the back and an oak wood desk. There was a lean man sitting in the chair opposite of it. He seemed to be in his early thirties. "Hello misbehaver." The man said with a hint of playfulness in his eyes.

"I had to tell him Mycroft." Rose defended gently.

He smiled a little. "You admire my brother far too much." He said with a bit of amusement. "But he is alive, so you've done a good job." 

Rose smiled meekly. 

Mycroft came to her. "Little mouse, you still need to keep an eye out for him."

Sherlock's voice sounded. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself--hello Rose." He said to her with a curt smile. "I should have known you were involved in this." Sherlock said, addressing his brother.

"The fact that you didn't only proves that I picked the right girl for the job." He said calmly. Both he and his brother never tended to get overly excited or emotional.

"I can't argue with that. But why her?" Sherlock asked. He was alone, which was odd. John was usually with him.

"I have an eye for potential." Mycroft shrugged.

Sherlock looked at Rose then Mycroft. He looked Rose over. He saw many details but nothing too interesting.

Mycroft spoke again. "Moriarty is--was, planning several bombings, but now that Rose has taken the film, he will realize that we are on to him and he will readjust."

"So I... ruined everything?" Rose asked softly. Mycroft shook his head then gently pet her hair. "Not at all. Moriarty is going to spend more time changing his plans and that gives us a chance to regroup from the near attempt on Sherlock's life."

"Why didn't they kill me earlier?" Sherlock asked.

"Moriarty could have in theory, but you were out of your flat along with John when Rose went running towards you." Mycroft said. Rose opened her mouth to ask how he knew that but he said, "Hush now, I simply know things." He said gently. Rose closed her mouth and nodded. He continued, "He was supposed to kill you that night. Despite my wanting Rose not to contact you, if she hadn't misdirected them, you could be dead right now."

Sherlock looked at Rose. "Did you know all of this before you ran to our flat?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I just knew I needed to get them distracted by someone else and I was also afraid of getting caught and killed so I made up a lie ahead of time and ran for your flat. I wasn't thinking I just went on instinct."

"The best kind of intelligence is accidental. More unpredictable that way." Mycroft said with a little chuckle.

"Might have been subconscious..." Sherlock mumbled then shook his head. "Well what do we do with her now?"

Mycroft made a face. "She is a valuable addition to our arsenal. I trust her, and we need all of the help we can get."

Sherlock sighed. He typically would rather have his brother be as uninvolved in his work as possible. Sherlock had long ago given up trying to convince Mycroft to commit to some hands-on work, especially since he was admittedly smarter than Sherlock, but his brother did not have the motivation for it.

"Be nice to her will you?" Mycroft said to Sherlock, with mild indifference. Rose smiled, she felt so happy and humble to be amongst such intelligent men.

"I'll try not to get her killed." Sherlock said shortly.

Mycroft tilted his head slightly, a bit annoyed. Finally he sighed and shrugged. "Coming from you, I will settle for that." He then gently pet Rose's back. "Go on little mouse."

Rose smiled with amusement then went to Sherlock, looking up at him for guidance. "We're having lunch with John." He said briskly and Rose gave a last look at Mycroft before she followed Sherlock.

They met John at a little outdoor restaurant. The blond looked a bit flustered once he saw Rose. "Good afternoon Miss Winters." He said shyly then gently shook her hand. Rose sat down at the table as Sherlock explained, "Mycroft sent Rose to look after me. She is by no means extraordinary, but he says he found potential in her."

Sherlock sat down then looked at the menu.

"How did you meet Mycroft?" John asked curiously.

"It was quite strange. I was at the library reading by myself when he sat down next to me. He told me that he had been watching me for quite some time and at first I felt a bit nervous. He went on to say that he had noticed me at the farmers market. He saw me get pick pocketed and when I realized that I had, I figured out who it was and I pick pocketed him right back. He said that, since then, he had me followed. He said I was different yet unassuming and he thought he could use me to help keep an eye on his brother and that was that."

"You believed him right away?" John asked, incredulous.

"Well he said his name was Mycroft Holmes, and he confirmed that he was Sherlock's brother so... yes I did. In hind sight I probably shouldn't have though." She said timidly.

Sherlock suddenly spoke up. "Why does he call you his little mouse?"

Rose looked a bit shy and smiled a little. "He says that all people are like rats in a maze trying to get the cheese. But there are a few rats like you and him, that are smart enough to get out without any motive at all, without any effort. But then there is me, a little mouse, not smart enough to make it through the maze on my own, but rather, attempting to climb out of it all together, because I don't belong with the other rats but I just can't seem to get out. I guess he likes me because of that. Maybe he feels responsible to help me find where I belong." 

"Hm." Sherlock huffed.

John looked a little agitated. "Mycroft can be so rude."

Rose tilted her head then chuckled a bit. "It's okay John, he's right. And I know my place, I am grateful for him honestly."

"And what does he consider me to be then?" John asked, annoyed by Mycroft's analogy.

Rose looked uncomfortable. "It's best to leave well enough-"

John gave her a look. He wasn't going to let this go any time soon.

Rose sighed. "He said that you're one of the rats who just follows the others to find a way out. You are following Sherlock."

John stayed quiet but he looked irritated, partially because he knew that Mycroft was right in a way. Luckily the waiter came soon and took their orders.

Sherlock thought about what Mycroft had said about Rose. He knew his brother was right, not that he would ever admit it. Rose did seem different, out of place but not in a bad way. She was loyal to him and his brother and since she wasn't extremely clever nor stupid she was at the perfect intelligence to not be useless but also not attempt to double cross them. But even if she were more intelligent than she seemed, she admired the two Holmes' and even John too much to turn her back on them. That was another quality that Mycroft liked no doubt and that Sherlock appreciated. The girl was incredibly humble, she kept perspective of who she was and what she was worth, though from the sound of it, John disagreed with her assessment of herself.

After they ate, Rose was people watching. She saw couples and families walking towards the park. She never did feel right, not that she wanted to be a part of a family nor be in a romantic relationship with someone, she just wanted to belong somewhere. She hoped that she would have her own little place of belonging now with the three men that she admired so much, two for their intelligence and one for his heart.

That afternoon John and Rose walked around the park then fed the ducks in the pond with some breadcrumbs. Sherlock was less than amused by the activity, but he found some peace and quiet to think about the case. 

"Look at that one!" Rose squeaked then pointed at one who had dived down to get the piece of bread. She was giggling, so excited, and John was smiling at her as she watched the little animals with childish glee.

Sherlock wondered what it was like to be simple like John or Rose. He wondered if it was a happier life. How could someone enjoy feeding those ugly creatures? He then thought about his brother who had showed a certain amount of affection for Rose. Not any normal amount like one might a lover or a friend, but it was still unusual that he liked her at all. Mycroft didn't like anyone. Maybe she is his John. Sherlock smirked at the thought.

Rose turned around. "Come on Sherlock!" She cooed happily.

John looked a bit amused by Rose's effort. "Sherlock doesn't really partake in-"

Sherlock had walked up to them. "Hand me some bread." He said with a slight amount of curiosity. Rose looked excited and handed him a piece. Sherlock looked confused at first then threw it at the ducks as they now all raced at once to get the tiny morsel. Rose chuckled as she watched them then looked up at Sherlock, who looked perplexed. "And this is... fun?" He asked.

Rose chuckled. "To us mere mortals it is." She said with a little smirk.

"Why?" He asked, looking at the ducks oddly as they now quacked and waited for their next piece. 

"Maybe it's because it helps us feel less small." Rose said. "Plus, look how cute they are!" She squeaked.

Sherlock still didn't look convinced as the little swimmers paddled and quacked. He was reminded of his brother's metaphor and realized that it really wasn't all that far off. Maybe Mycroft saw Rose as being like a little dull creature for him to (in his own mind) guide and teach. It made sense what Rose said too. People like taking care of someone or something smaller or less intelligent than they are. Everyone likes to play god in one way or another.

"They are so cute." Rose cooed again. "If I could, I would have a big house with a huge pond of ducks!" She said excitedly, which made John chuckle. "Perhaps you will one day. For now, I can take you to the park as much as you want."

"Really John?" Rose asked sweetly.

The blond smiled and nodded.

"That would be great." She said happily and watched the ducks swim some more. "Are we out of bread John?"

"We have one more piece." He said and gave it to her. She looked and felt so special to have the last piece. She tossed it to the smallest duck and watched him quack then eat it.

Sherlock watched her curiously then began to walk back. John threw away the brown paper bag then walked close with Rose as they followed Sherlock's long strides.

Once they made it back to their flat Sherlock was startled to see that Irene Adler was there... "Hello Sherlock." She smiled, then looked at Rose. "Well lookie here the little betrayer. The iceman's pet mouse."

John stood in front of Rose to protect her but Rose peeked out to see what was going on. Irene was touching Sherlock's shirt. "Moriarty sent me, as you can imagine." She smirked then sauntered towards the fireplace.

"Did you love Sherlock?" Rose suddenly spoke up curiously.

Irene stopped in her tracks then turned and approached Rose who was looking doe eyed. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because I wanted to." Rose said, the corner of her mouth twitching up a bit in a sort of smirk, there was a gleam of defiance in her eyes.

"Oh you are an odd little thing aren't you?" She said then left her without answering her question. She looked at Sherlock, who spoke up, "Why did he send you?"

"To give you a little advantage. He says it makes everything so much more interesting. He is always a bit dramatic isn't he?" She said with a little smirk.

"He isn't the only one." Rose said, looking over the stranger intently.

Irene did the same to Rose, and like Sherlock, she did not find anything extraordinary about the woman. But there was definitely something. If Mycroft could have a smidge of affection for her then there had to be some quality about her that was special. "The few of us who are above the rest deserve to have a bit of fun. Don't you agree Sherlie?" She purred, then touched his shirt once again, but he was very stiff, and alert. "I think I've done my job here." She smirked then looked at Rose again, who was staring at her with a certain amount of distaste as the woman left.

"I don't understand, how did she give us an advantage?" John asked to which both Sherlock and Rose responded in unison, "There is a mole in the government." Sherlock looked at Rose in slight surprise. "How did you-"

"She said I was Mycroft's mouse. Only Mycroft has called me that and we were alone, and now both of you know. It is possible that one of the people around us during lunch today were actually spies for Moriarty but-"

"Given the context that isn't likely." Sherlock finished for her.

"Exactly." Rose nodded.

John looked thoughtful. "Well what do we do about it?"

"Perhaps I could spend some time there with Mycroft, and gather clues for you." Rose suggested.

Sherlock took in the information then smiled a bit. "Good. I just hope you survive."

"You think it will be that dangerous?" John asked with concern. 

"Mm possibly. I was actually referring to her being forced to stay near my brother for an extended period of time. It is a fate worse than death."

Rose chuckled, smiling while John shook his head and gave him a look. Sherlock took something from underneath the mess of his apartment and he showed it to her. "This one is a tracer and communicator, put it on your person, somewhere that cannot be easily taken off. If we aren't able to listen in all the time, it will also record every sound you and those around you make." He showed her another little device. "This one is so you can hear what we say. Put it in your ear."

"Where did you get that?" John asked.

"Stole it." Sherlock replied simply then addressed Rose again. "Do you understand?"

Rose nodded, then took them in her hand. "Should we tell Mycroft about this?"

"No. He will probably suspect what we are doing soon enough, but it's best to let him so no one else hears you say it." Sherlock said.

"Shall I see him in the morning then?"

"Yes."

John looked worried. "Do be careful."

Rose smiled kindly. "Don't worry John, it's government work. How exciting can it be?" She chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am honestly surprised I'm still writing! I actually have 8 chapters done but I am just pacing it so there isn't a lull. But anyway I am so surprised because I usually get discouraged when I know hardly anyone is reading it or I get very little comments. But I love this story so much now, it's my baby, I don't want to let it go, even if no one is keen on the story. It doesn't deserve to die, not this one.
> 
> Anyway, any of you who *are* reading this story, thank you. So much. Please comment or like, anyone can even anonymous people so... please do. Thank you all! I'm trying my best so do be kind.
> 
> TheEnduringStoryteller. x


	5. A bottle of red

The following morning Rose dressed in a pretty light pink dress with a matching bow in her hair. She walked up the elegant steps with a bit of a sway in her step as she entered the large building once more. Sherlock had given her a few more tips that morning and also said, "John asked that I tell you not to take anything Mycroft says personally." Rose could practically hear Sherlock's disdain for John's sentimentality. She had then responded, "Thank you Sherlock, and thank John for me."

Rose went to the woman at the front desk, who was different from the other day. "Hello, is Mr. Holmes here?" Rose asked politely.

"That information is not to be disclosed to civilians. Do you have evidence of authorization?" The woman responded professionally, even a bit stern.

"No I don't but-"

"Then I ask that you kindly leave the building."

"Could you put down my name for him to-"

"Please ma'am, don't make me call for security." She said and Rose sighed then turned around, nearly bumping into Mycroft. She squeaked, "Mr. Holmes!"

Mycroft looked past her to the secretary. "Miss Blanche, do remember her face. She is always welcome here." He said with a curt smile. "Come on little mouse." He said and began walking without even looking at her. Rose looked at the woman then Mycroft and followed after him to his office. Mycroft frowned as he made his way to his desk. "Why do you call me Mr. Holmes? I call you mouse, you ought to use my first name."

"I suppose so sir."

"You aren't always this meek are you?"

Rose looked surprised by all of these questions. He hadn't asked about her before, not really. "No, I'm not."

"Then you shouldn't be with me and certainly not with Sherlock." He decided.

"I can't help it." Rose defended gently.

Mycroft was quiet for a while. "I can tell by your fingers that you play piano. Play me something will you?" 

Rose looked nervous but nodded. She went to the piano near the window and began to play a simple melody, simple yet complex. Mycroft sat at his desk and closed his eyes as he listened to her play.

Sherlock had been listening in the whole time through the tiny microphone that Rose had on her person, as was John (at his insistence). "How long do you think it will be before he realizes that Rose is bugged?" John asked away from their microphone so Rose wouldn’t hear.

"Not long. He’ll probably deduce it before the end of today." Sherlock said honestly.

Once Rose had finished her piece, she turned around on the piano bench and looked at Mycroft, who was still taking in the music even though it had ended about a minute ago. She stayed quiet as he kept silent, until he gently opened his eyes. "You play well."

"Thank you Mr. — um, Mycoft." Rose said, then, when Mycroft waved her over, she came to sit opposite of him. "Why have you come here, honestly? I know it wasn't just to see me."

"I wanted to know if I could work with you." Rose said. 

"And why would you want to do that? Or, even think you are qualified to work with me?" Mycroft asked.

"Well that's just it, I want to learn from you." Rose explained.

"I couldn't pay you much."

"I know." Rose said, batting her eyes softly, her eyes innocent and sweet.

"Hm." He hummed shortly in a sort of huff. "Very well little mouse you can work with me. But no straying. Listen to what I say, and only what I say."

Rose nodded. "Yes sir."

Mycroft stood up and went to her side then gently put his finger underneath her chin so he could examine her. He sighed to himself. "Perhaps I know now why Sherlock has an affinity for keeping John around." He mumbled, then walked towards the doorway. "We have a meeting to attend."

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock made a face, looking thoughtful. He wondered why Mycroft hadn't realized what was going on yet, or maybe he had and that's why he kept quiet. John sighed. "I wish you two wouldn't make her feel so small."

"She makes herself feel small John. And anyway she is right, which is probably why Mycroft is drawn to her."

"What, to fluff his ego?" John said spitefully.

Sherlock shook his head. "It's a bit more complicated than that John which I am sure you are used to hearing."

John gave him a dirty look then went back to listening. Rose was still in the meeting with Mycroft. Many of the members were looking at her strangely, for she didn't seem to belong. But Mycroft didn't even address it, he simply went along with his business as if Rose wasn't even there. Rose took this time to look at each of the people in the room.

"Look at their fingernails Rose." Sherlock said into his microphone. "Notice the details of each one and write it down for me."

Rose made a little hum so Sherlock knew that she understood. She felt so happy to be helping Sherlock. She was actually happy for the first time in a long time… Mycroft was exactly right about her, she just plain didn't belong, and there were many nights when she wondered why she should bother existing. She remembered what John had told her now, "Never feel guilty for wanting to live." John made her smile, he really was a good man.

Rose was very discreet as she took in as many details as she could about their fingers, particularly their nails. She realized that the reason why both of the Holmes' brothers paid attention to the fingers was because it tells a lot about a person. Callused or not, dirty or not, bitten nails, nails that aren't groomed, nails that are groomed… and a whole list of other qualities that she probably couldn't even see! She took very meticulous notes and felt Mycroft glancing at her once and a while curiously and even as she took notes about these strangers she also noticed a thing or two about Mycroft as well.

After the meeting Rose got up and walked out the door and was about to head out on her own when Mycroft came to her instead. “Have lunch with me Rose, I want to talk to you about something.”

Rose looked a little nervous. It was always nerve wrecking when someone wanted to talk with you alone out of the blue, even more so when you were already keeping a secret. “Of course.” Rose said as naturally as she could and followed him.

“You should feel honored.” Mycroft mentioned as he looked around while they walked outside.

“Oh?” Rose quipped with a little smile.

“Typically when I desire to have a chat with someone they are captured by force.”

“And what makes me so special?” Rose asked, a little amused.

Mycroft stopped to look at her with just the smallest hint of playfulness in his eyes. “It was more convenient to ask you to lunch. In a way, it was your capture--“ He said as he now looked away from her, using his cane as he walked her towards the restaurant that Rose, Sherlock, and John had been at… just… the other day. “For you are too polite to refuse,” He continued. “and not quick enough to find a way to avoid it.”

“Perhaps I just like you.” Rose suggested as she felt a knot in her stomach, but she made an effort not to show it. She knew now that he was aware of what was going on, but she wasn’t scared about that, because Sherlock had wanted him to figure it out. But she was scared that Mycroft wouldn’t trust her anymore.

Mycroft huffed at the ridiculous notion of her joining him on her own volition. “A sense of humor too I see.” He opened the iron-gate that was very low to the ground and led her into the courtyard of the restaurant. “I realized a few things from the moment you came into my office. But rather than invade your privacy could you please check your person?” Mycroft asked a bit cryptically, but he assumed she would understand, and she did.

Rose looked a bit nervous then embarrassed as she took out the little device from inside of her bra and hid it in her hand from any prying eyes before she turned it off. She heard Sherlock curse in her ear, since the earpiece was still working, but John and Sherlock couldn’t hear what was being said.

Mycroft was quiet for a while as he looked at her. Rose felt uncomfortable and looked away, anywhere but in his eyes. “What brought this on?” He asked.

“Miss um… Irene Adler.”

“She said her name?”

“No, I just um. Well I saw that she had a handkerchief in her pocket with the initials I.A on it. I had heard of her before but never saw her, she was confident like a dominatrix which aligned with the rumors I’ve heard of her when I was undercover. I also noticed she had perfume on, odd for someone coming to see an enemy, nails done, red lipstick and she was touching Sherlock a lot so I figured I would ask her if she was in love with him. She didn't answer."

Mycroft listened to all of this with quiet interest and a little quirk of a smile on his face as she began to give him the full report. He still wasn't quite sure, but it seemed that although she was loyal to Sherlock, she might be just a bit more loyal to him. She had to have known that Sherlock would not want his brother to be any more involved than he had to be, but here she was, telling Mycroft what had happened.

"She called me your pet mouse." Rose said.

"Are you offended by that?"

"No, it just-"

"I don't think you realize yet what I'm capable of." Mycroft said calmly then ordered himself a drink when the waiter came, and Rose ordered herself a drink as well. "I've known that there was a mole for quite some time now, but it's been a fun little exercise letting him think he is clever while also not letting him get any real information."

Rose smiled, clearly impressed by him. "But what should we do about it?"

"I think nothing. I've gotten more information out of him than he has of whatever it is they were looking for.” He said then sipped his drink.

“Wine so early?” Rose asked curiously.

“Mm. And what can you deduce from that, mouse?”

Rose looked thoughtful and tried to be careful as she looked at him. “Well… during the whole meeting you blinked often showing that you are nearly always looking at a screen because your eyes are very dry, therefore showing that you are over worked. You made an effort to yawn several times during the meeting even though you were clearly not tired, which, by the way people don’t yawn because they are tired, they yawn for extra air which happens to be when people are sleepy they don’t know the real reason why—“

“You’re digressing little Rose.” He said, looking amused.

Rose looked embarrassed yet amused at herself. “Sorry, I just get so excited about things, everything is so interesting to me.”

Mycroft nodded a bit to show that he had listened to her. “You were saying?”

“You don’t like your job and make it clear to everyone that you don’t. Several times you squeezed your eyes shut when someone would speak in an unfavorably slow manner in contrary to your own intelligence, occasionally touching your temple with your fingers. So you are in actual physical pain when you are around some of these individuals.”

“Most of those individuals.” He corrected calmly and took another sip of wine.

“I wasn’t sure I was right about all of this until you ordered the wine at the early hour of 11 am.” Rose explained and he actually gave a half smile for once. “What I don’t understand,” Rose went on to say. “is why you stay here if you don’t like it. What is your job anyway?”

“I occupy a small position in the British government.” He said in that mild confidence of his.

Sherlock’s voice sounded from behind where Mycroft was sitting. “He is British Government – when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good afternoon, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before dinner, you know what it does for the traffic."

Rose was surprised by all of this and even a bit startled. She looked from Sherlock to Mycroft with questioning eyes. Mycroft showed an expression of mild denial, but he didn’t say so, only, “Good afternoon Sherlock, you’ve bugged my mouse I see.”

“Oh stop calling her that we both know you’ve never had an affection for anything past age 12.” Sherlock scoffed.

“Who said I had affection for her?” Mycroft said smoothly. “And besides, it wasn’t 12 it was 15.”

“Having a pet is more affection than you’ve felt since that age so yes, it is affection.”

Mycroft shrugged. “I have an affinity for art Sherlock, she is no different. You wouldn’t speak ill of the Mona Lisa, and you would be upset should it be destroyed needlessly.” He said, then sipped his wine again. “But if you’d like to see her as my pet so ‘the iceman’ as I am apparently called would appear to have a softer side then you are more than welcome to. As for me I haven’t changed, the amount of sentimentality that is aloud or useful will only go as far as appreciation, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Rose spoke up. “You do realize that I’m right here.”

“I thought you weren’t offended by being my pet.” Mycroft mentioned with a little sarcastic smile.

“The more I’m called that the more I have a distain for the label.” Rose said with a bit of a sneer.

“You’ll grow into the role soon enough.” Mycroft assured. “Why are you here Sherlock?” He asked, looking at his brother now, who was still standing beside them.

“Her tracker was turned off.”

“But you knew she was with me, so why worry? Or, is that why you worried?” Mycroft asked with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Rose was glancing around at the world outside their area meanwhile. “I’ll be right back.” She said, then left the two men on their own. She thought they had heard her, but they were so preoccupied with their rivalry that they hadn’t. 

Rose went to the park that she and John had walked to just the other day and she sat on the bench with a soft sigh. She wasn’t sad, but she was thinking, and when she couldn’t figure something out it made her frustrated. She doubted that Mycroft and Sherlock often had that problem. She knew she was clever, but she wished so badly that she were cleverer. Compared to the rest of the world she wasn’t dim, but anyone compared to the Holmes’ were as dull as those ducks in the pond. Yet still, as she looked at the little creatures she smiled. Because even something so simple was special, and perhaps that was why it was special in the first place. She saw a street performer doing card tricks for money on the other side of the body of water. He did such a simple maneuver a slight of hand a people were amazed! Sometimes something so easy can be so complicated at the same time.

She then wondered something… If Moriarty was as smart as Sherlock then what would be so clever about planting a mole within the same building that one of the smartest men in the world worked? Mycroft was so confident that he just let the spy stay there, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe the point was misdirection, like a magician who has you focus on something else so the real magic cannot be seen. But Mycroft must have realized this… right? Rose shook her head. She shouldn’t try to figure things out, they were so much smarter, and they knew what they were doing.

In direct contradiction with that last thought, she headed back into the building. Rose looked around then quietly went to Mycroft’s office. She didn’t find anything of interest until she thought of something. Mycroft was the type of man who didn’t like to do any sort of leg work, which was why he sent her to go undercover to make sure his brother would be okay. If Mycroft disposed of or switched the bugs in his office that would be the only effort he would ever make. If they were replaced they would stay because Mycroft wouldn’t spend the time to diligently check every day that he hadn't been bugged again. Rose looked into the piano and sure enough there was a little device, then she looked around rest of the room and found only one more. She thought this odd, but perhaps more than two would have been caught by Mycroft’s watching eyes. Rose left the bugs for now then peeked out, trying to find the mole that Mycroft had already discovered. Rose tried to examine the details of each person but couldn’t figure out anything. 

A drone voice echoed in her earpiece. “You’re wasting your time.” She knew that voice, it was Moriarty. She froze in fear at first then instantly looked around. She saw a man with a tiny device in his ear. He must be the one relaying the information. But if Moriarty was in the flat then where was John? “Where is-”

“John has… gone out.”

Rose didn’t know what that meant but she felt her heart racing. She approached the suspect and asked him, “What is your name?”

“What?” He asked, clearly not expecting Rose to come up to him.

“What is your name, tell me now.” Rose demanded.

“It’s um…”

Time seemed to go in slow motion. While he thought, Rose spent time looking at every detail of him, trying desperately to muster enough cleverness to figure this out. What was Moriarty using to misdirect? A mole. The danger? The information he could get. What could be worse than that? What could Moriarty want more than that? Rose saw the man’s hands. He had a watch on his wrist which was odd, no one wore watches anymore. There was a timer on it, counting down. A signal? A bomb? Possibly, but why was he here then? He was stuttering to find a name so he wasn’t that competent of a liar nor dedicated enough to die along with the people destroyed in the blast. Rose thought back to what Sherlock had asked of her when she had originally come to him as a client. I need his name and his schedule so I know when he's gone. They planted the bugs and the mole because they needed Mycroft’s schedule. But they didn’t need it so they could know when to snoop for information. And they weren’t looking for consistency because Mycroft wasn’t consistent and even if he was they would have had what they needed a long time ago. So why did they did they need to know where he was at all times? Why was everything happening now, all at once? Typically when I desire to have a chat with someone they are captured by force. Mycroft was usually never without a certain amount of protection, but since there were a few bugs they now knew that today he was simply out with a young, dimwitted girl. Or… so they thought. Time came out of its frozen vortex and Rose handed the man the ear piece just as he found a fake name. “Rodger.”

Rose hadn’t stayed even a moment after he said it before she was sprinting out of the building. She had thought of calling for someone but by then it might be too late. She saw their waiter come back to Mycroft’s table and in a sort of blur she saw that he too had an earpiece. She jumped over the small iron fence and yelled Mycroft’s name just as she tackled the waiter. Two gun shots were fired followed by screams from the other customers.

Mycroft looked at the two on the floor, he was unharmed but showed concern for the first time in years. Sherlock threw the waiter off of Rose, (the man had fallen on top of her in the scuffle). Mycroft called in for back up and they came swiftly to take the shooter away. Sherlock gently helped little Rose sit up. She cringed and had her hand over her side. She was bleeding through her light pink dress, staining it crimson. Sherlock’s voice wavered as he asked, “Are you alright?” He felt worry yes, but also guilt.

“Yes, it’s just a flesh wound I’m sure.” Rose smiled with sort of wince. She then gently touched his cheek to comfort him before she held on to the table to try to steady her enough to stand, but Sherlock wouldn’t have it. “Call an ambulance Mycroft.” He said, as he gently guided Rose to sit back down, kneeling down in front of her and keeping her steady.

“Already done.” He said. The eldest Holmes brother hadn’t taken his eyes off of Rose. His mind was blank, which was the oddest experience to him. Everything was a blur of odd sensations that ordinary people would call feelings.

Rose was still trying not to focus on the horrid pain, and she refused to look at the blood seeping through. If she thought of the fact that there was a piece of metal lodged in her body she might pass out. She made a desperate sound and tried to focus on her breathing until she found enough strength to whimper, “John.” Tears were coming to her eyes as she looked up to the blue sky which started to get grey with clouds. Her side was aching and burning, but that wasn’t the only reason why she was crying.

“What about John?” Sherlock asked, still gentle with her, his hand on her arm.

“Moriarty was talking to me through my earpiece. I asked where John was and he said that he had ‘gone out’. I’m worried Sherlock, what does that mean?” She asked, her voice wavering. She could feel her body on the edge of emotional shock. It was so much all at once.

“I don’t know.” Sherlock admitted in the deep rumble of his voice. He gently picked her up once the ambulance arrived. Rose saw all of the commotion that was caused in her name and she frowned. “I really don’t need all this.” Rose said, but she was crying still. She didn’t like attention, she didn’t like having people fuss over her, especially when John was probably in trouble. “I want to help.”

“You’ve been shot Rose, for god’s sake. Rest.” Sherlock said with sweet reproach. “You have already helped more than enough. John will be alright, he always is.”

“But how do we know? What if-” Rose squeaked when Sherlock had put her down on the stretcher, it had hurt her because her skin was torn.

Sherlock sighed; the woman was unbelievable. “If I need assistance I will call for you.”

“No matter what?” Rose whimpered.

“Yes.” Sherlock said with a little smile. He seemed fonder of her now, like he had finally realized who she was.

“Make sure to tell me what’s going on. John needs to be okay, he’s a good man.” Rose said, even as the medics were carrying her into the ambulance on the stretcher.

Sherlock nodded. “And you’re a good woman.” He said. Rose noticed how rich and deep his voice was. And with that, the doors closed and soon the ambulance drove off down the street heading for the hospital, sirens blaring then fading as the distance increased. 

“She will probably be alright but with injuries anything is possible.” Sherlock said to his brother, not looking at him, but instead at the street in which the ambulance had just left.

“Why should that concern me?” Mycroft asked, his eyes glazed over. He wasn’t looking at his brother either, but rather where Rose had been shot.

“Because she saved your life damn it, she probably saved both of our lives.” Sherlock admonished, then turned to look at what he saw as his cold hearted brother. Mycroft looked at his wine glass now and was quiet. Sherlock was practically seething. “You know what the worst part is? You aren’t upset because she could have been killed; you’re only upset because she saved your life by being smarter than you, and you can’t stand it.”

Mycroft’s jaw was clenched, but his fists weren’t and it was the only thing that revealed that he was stressed. When Sherlock waited for an answer but got none, he mumbled, “I have to find John.” As he started to leave, Mycroft finally spoke in a sort of murmur, “If she had died I might have started another war.”

Sherlock stopped, but didn’t look at his brother as he said, “You should visit her. She doesn’t like to be alone.” He then left his brother to himself, his own worst enemy, as Sherlock left to pick up the pieces that Moriarty had scattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who reads this, you are lovely. And anyone who comments, you are an absolute angel darling. Take care! :)
> 
> -T.E.S


	6. To Be

The following night, Mycroft tossed and turned in his bed. Sleep would not at all come easy to him this time. He had never had this problem before. Of course once in a while he would have trouble sleeping due to his racing mind, but this was different. He was anxious about Rose, about what happened. He had meant what he said to Sherlock. If she had died he would have started a war. What he didn’t say was that he would have started it just to see the world burn as he surely would have. He didn’t understand why it would have mattered so much if she were dead. He spent time convincing himself that it didn’t matter. She was just a little mouse who he was helping out of the maze, and maybe that would be his ticket to the pearly gates should they exist. But he knew all of those excuses were a lie. He didn’t know what the truth was, or if he did he refused to look for it. He did know this, it was too dangerous to get her involved anymore. He didn’t know why he was doing this, but he decided, at two in the morning, to put on his robe and make his trek to the hospital.

Rose’s room was dark with only the gentle glow of the moon shinning into her bedroom. She was curled up into a little ball despite her doctor’s instructions because it was her most natural state of sleeping. Her delicate hands were holding the blankets close to her and a little strand of her dark brown hair framed her face gently. She heard a masculine voice say, “You’re lonely and in the habit of protecting yourself.”

Rose woke up quickly and squeaked when she saw the shadow of a man sitting in a chair beside her bed, near the window. At first she feared it was Moriarty, but she noticed the point of an umbrella and realized that it was Mycroft. She smiled a bit at the revelation but she was still a little peeved. “You shouldn’t scare me like that.”

“Neither should you.” He said then looked down before he came to stand by her side. He rested his hand on the mattress. “How did you realize what was going on?” His voice was gentle, almost melodic as he looked at her, trying to seem as cold as he usually was, but somehow he still seemed docile.

Rose explained to him her process, about how she had thought about Moriarty misdirecting them and so on, and Mycroft listened to her quietly and without much expression. When she finished telling her story he nodded once then gently touched her hand, which was on the bed as she attempted to sit up. “You shouldn’t scare me.” He repeated.

“I didn’t mean to.” Rose chuckled silently.

“No, I mean. I shouldn’t be scared because of you.” Mycroft explained, and Rose understood. He was confused by why he felt any amount of emotion over her well-being. Rose was quiet though as he continued to gently touch her little hand. All there was, was the sound of a gentle, ghostly breeze flowing through the hospital. “Will it leave a scar?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Rose nodded. “Yes, a little one. But it doesn’t bother me.”

“Mm.” He hummed, then sighed softly.

“Is there any reason why you decided to see me now rather than in the morning?” Rose asked, looking at his hand which was mindlessly caressing hers, before she looked up at his face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He mumbled soon after her question.

“How did you get past security?”

“I can get past any security.” He answered soon after her question, yet his voice was gentle once more.

It was once again silent. Rose continued to look at his face, searching for his eyes, as his were concentrated on her little hand. She felt her heart warm from his caring touch, whether or not that was what he was intending, she didn’t know. But it had been a long time since anyone cared (whatever the reason) about how she was doing. Now Sherlock did as did John, and also, apparently, Mycroft. She started to smile, realizing that she was finally going to belong and be happy.

“I’m going to tell Sherlock to keep you out of his affairs, if he doesn’t listen I will enforce it. You also will not be allowed access into my workplace. If you speak with John he will only get you into more trouble I imagine, so I will have to make sure you don’t see him either.”

At first Rose was in shock, but when she finally felt the full weight of his words it hit her like a ton of bricks, she felt like her whole world was collapsing with just a few sentences. Her lower lip was quivering and her eyes were starting to water. “But Mycroft-”

He shook his head to stop her protest then gently pet her hair, he then said in a gentle murmur, “Back to the maze little mouse.” He kissed her head then left the room. He hadn’t seen her tears as he left.

 

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock was distraught with so many thoughts and unfortunate feelings. From his searching of the flat he confirmed that John had indeed been kidnapped, and Irene Adler had been present, but he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. He wasn’t sure why but his mind was in a thick fog of confusion. For a moment he considered asking his brother, but it was two in the morning and he was probably asleep, and even if he wasn’t, Mycroft wouldn’t want to help him. Sherlock sat on the couch and closed his eyes in another attempt to think up a solution.

 

A few minutes after Mycroft’s words, Rose had made a decision. She tied the back of her hospital gown tightly so nothing would be exposed, then she snuck out of the hospital, her eyes blurry from crying. She walked, and kept walking in the chilled air until she found a bridge. So cliché, she thought. But it would do the job. She leaned over the edge and looked down. She couldn’t stand her life before she had met these people and had been pondering the idea of death even then, but now, having been teased with hope and then have it ripped away from her… she couldn’t bare it. She didn’t have any hope to reach Sherlock because Mycroft was a powerful man as it turned out and he could do almost anything he wanted. And despite what she thought she had seen in him, he would be too cold hearted to convince. He probably felt guilty, and that’s the only reason why he showed any small amount of affection. She took in a deep breath and started to climb over the railing, when she felt a gentle yet firm hand on her arm then a sickening voice, Moriarty’s. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Rose gulped, then closed her eyes tightly. “Why not?”

“Not everyone dies on impact.” He droned, looking at her at first before he turned his head to the side. “Halfway through the fall they’d found a solution to the problem that they were killing themselves for.” He asked in his monotone, overly calm, almost robotic voice as he slowly turned to look at her. “I’m what you would have discovered halfway down.” He said with a sadistic smile.

Rose didn’t look at him, her heart was pounding in her chest from the uncertainty. “You’re the reason I got shot.” Rose accused, yet her voice was wavering.

“You’re the reason my hire missed his target.”

“So then why don’t you want me dead?”

“I would rather have you on my side.” He said, still holding on to her forearm. Rose glanced back and saw that there was a black car on the other side of the road.

“And if I’m not?”

“Well then I want you dead.” He then mumbled. ”But first you deserve a choice, everyone deserves a choice.”

Rose looked thoughtful. “If you want me because I’m clever you should know that it was just luck that-“

“Don’t lie, leave the lying to me.”

“But I’m not clever.”

“A sheep is white when compared to grass but compared to snow it’s dirty.”

“So you and Sherlock are snow?” Rose asked, almost dumbfounded by his arrogance.

“Yeah, but look at it this way, the rest of the world is grass.” He said with a sickeningly satisfied smile. “Why should you care about that? About them? They are the stuff you should eat for breakfast.” He snarled like an animal.

Rose paused a moment before rolling her eyes. “Unlike the rest of you, I haven’t got an ego the size of the pacific ocean.”

“Ooo, spicy.” He said with amusement dancing in his eyes.

A car drove up then, another black one. From the expression in Moriarty’s face she could tell that it wasn’t one of his. “We will catch up later then hm?” He asked, then headed back into his car and drove off before the new car stopped and the driver’s door opened. It was Mycroft, still in his night clothes and robe. He sighed and came to her, umbrella in hand, being used as a cane. Rose looked at him at first then went to sit on the bench which was just high enough so that one could see over the bars. Mycroft came to her and sat down. “You should be resting.”

Rose was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, her little body was trembling as well. She was in a bit of shock.

Mycroft felt uncomfortable, he didn’t know how to handle a crying woman. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to cope with being forced back into the dull world such as it is. It wasn’t fair of me to make you.” Rose was still quiet and sniffling as Mycroft continued. “I just… I thought it would be best for you if you were amongst the other… people.” Mycroft said the word with mild disgust. “The ones that won’t get you into trouble.”

“I can handle myself.” Rose said, her voice strained yet proud.

Mycroft looked at her. “You’ve proved that certainly.” He sighed again. “Truthfully, I was protecting myself more than you.”

Rose looked at him, then suddenly leaned in and hugged his side, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against him. “Don’t let me go back to how I was before. Please.”

Mycroft was a bit stiff at first, but he soon had some sympathy for the girl. She was lonely, and she felt she didn’t belong, he could relate to that. He timidly rested his head against hers as he looked out at the full moon in front of them. “As much as it pains me, I won’t.”

Rose sniffled, whimpering, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who read and especially those who comment, it means so, so much to me! :) I hope you are all doing well and enjoy this chapter!
> 
> With love,
> 
> T.E.S


	7. Chapter 7: A Lonely Decision

Rose had fallen asleep against Mycroft and he very silently had let her. He didn't move to wake her but nor did he pet her or try to soothe her in her sleep. He simply sat there in the quiet, hearing the gentle sound of the crickets and the rushing waters below that might have ended the young woman's life. Mycroft stayed awake the entire time, just silently sitting and looking ahead at the moon. Rose started to wake at daybreak. She made a little mewl then rubbed her eyes as she awoke gently, and there were sounds of songbirds twittering about in the trees. For a moment she didn't know where she was or why she was there. She looked at the person she was leaning on and she smiled sleepily, also confused. "Mycroft?"

"I see you've awoken." He said, still looking straight ahead.

"You're still here." She murmured, then sat up a bit.

"Mm."

Rose rubbed her eyes then took in a deep breath. "Thank you."

He was quiet for a long while. She kept looking at him though, "Were you up all night?"

"Yes." He said mildly, still looking at the horizon.

"Why?"

"Couldn't sleep." He murmured.

"You look tired to me."

"That's because I was up all night." He said in a little grumble.

It was quiet for a time. "Do they really call you 'the iceman'?"

"I know you want to see Sherlock and help John, let's get you there." Mycroft said, dodging the question which he knew would lead to discussing more sentimental topics.

"It's like four in the morning Mycroft, Sherlock's probably sleeping." Rose said, giving him a funny look as he got up, using his cane.

"My brother doesn't sleep, especially when he can't figure something out. It drives him mad, it's why he needs John, and why he needs you."

"Do you need me?"

Mycroft looked away then. "Come along mouse." He said, then helped her up and gently put his arm around her to steady the freshly injured girl. "I'd tell you to rest but I know that's an impossibility."

Rose chuckled then leaned against him as they walked. She shivered because of the cold night air. It was once again quiet as he walked her to his car. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier so you could-"

"You were injured, you shouldn't move any more than you have to, besides you were emotionally distraught, physically weak and exhausted."

"I wouldn't have minded, you're so important to the government --- well, you are the government. You could have just set me in the car and-"

"I didn't want to."

Rose looked at Mycroft curiously. His voice, like Moriarty's, was even. However Mycroft's voice was softer and more dear in a way. Even though there was little emotion, Rose felt comfortable with him for some reason. He was steady, and sure of himself. Mycroft helped her into the car, then drove to Baker Street.

Rose felt a bit awkward since she was just in her hospital gown and coat, wearing no underwear underneath. She made little mumbles expressing her nervousness.

"You know Sherlock won't even notice that you're in that hospital gown. He's just going to be glad you're back."

"No he won't." Rose giggled.

Mycroft was silent, still driving until they reached the flat. He parked then helped her out. Rose cringed and whimpered as she stepped out of the car. She clutched on to Mycroft and he helped her up calmly. "Did your stitches pop?"

"I-I don't know." She sighed then immediately followed with, "But I'm fine!" She squeaked but was still holding on to him as he helped her inside, then up the stairs. Sherlock had seen them outside and made a frustrated sound. He opened the door with a growl. "What do you think you're doing bringing her here?"

"Calm down Sherlock." Mycroft said with a certain amount of distain. "I tried to keep her away from you as well as me." Mycroft made a face. "That didn't work out."

Rose nudged her way inside. "Come on Mycroft, let's help Sherlock figure this out." Mycroft stayed put however. Sherlock was examining him. His brother couldn't sleep, went straight out of bed to see Rose... He had never been so distraught over anyone before, not in quite some time at least.

The eldest Holmes' brother shook his head as he looked at the silly girl in the hospital gown. "I'm sorry Miss Winters, but it's late, and this really isn't the type of work I prefer to delve into."

Rose tilted her head and looked disappointed.

"Take care of her will you?" Mycroft said with the smallest of smiles.

"I'll try not to get her killed." Sherlock said with a bit of a smirk.

Mycroft gave a silent little chuckle. "Hm." He was about to leave, when he looked back at Rose. "Thank you."

Rose smiled back then watched Mycroft leave, feeling a bit sad by it. Sherlock was the one to close the door and Rose was the first one to speak. "Can I borrow some clothes? I'm um, in need of some." She coughed, feeling awkward.

"Mm? Oh, yes, in my room. Or John's if you'd prefer, I'm sure he won't mind." Sherlock said, then went back to his laptop.

Rose went into Sherlock's room and found a purple shirt and some boxers. She put on the shirt then the boxers, both of which were too big for her. The elastic kept the shorts up however. She went to John's room next to see if he had any better clothes but he wore briefs. Rose couldn't help but giggle when she saw them. "Oh John..."

She then found a pair of jeans and a belt. She put on the pants and wore them as high waist ones with a belt so they wouldn't be too big on her. She then tied the purple shirt around her middle stylishly and found that given the situation she looked alright. She had no bra on and another man's (albeit clean) boxers on, but it was still better than nothing.

Rose came back out and sat next to Sherlock. "So what's the plan ace?"

"The plan is for you to go back to your flat."

Rose rolled her eyes. "What is with you Holmes' and wanting me to rest?"

"You were shot because my brother and I were being stupid. That might be an excuse for the rest of the world but it isn't for us. All we are is clever. You're... different." He sighed. He looked frustrated with himself, as well as with his brother.

Rose looked sympathetic and she gently touched his arm. "Listen Sherlock, I know you like to think of yourself as a well-oiled thinking machine, but you aren't. Like it or not you're human. And humans make mistakes."

Sherlock looked at her then, almost boyishly as she was being so nurturing to him. He wasn't quite used to that, and even more, he wasn't used to not being irritated by it.

"I want to help John. He's so important." Rose said earnestly.

"You thought the same about Mycroft." Sherlock grumbled.

"He is and so are you." Rose said sternly. She then whimpered because she had moved slightly wrong and it had popped another one of her stitches. She looked sad and a little overwhelmed. She wasn't good with tons of events, and stimulus...

"Too much information?" Sherlock asked when he noticed her near tears.

Rose nodded. "You have a stronger threshold than I do." She said with a forced smile.

Sherlock nodded. "But I still know what it's like." Sherlock watched as she moved the purple shirt she was borrowing. "All of the information just piles up, scattered, words, faces-"

"Peoples voices!" Rose chimed.

Sherlock smiled quickly then nodded as she continued. "Do you have that thing, where when you go to sleep you hear what other people say or would say? Like my brain remembers patterns and if I'm not around that person normally then my mind spends a lot of time remembering those patterns so when I start to sleep I hear things they might say or did say." When it was quiet for a moment Rose looked awkward, chuckling. "It's... just me isn't it?"

"No." He said, looking somewhat amazed. He then smirked. "I think John is right. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Thank you Sherlock." Rose smiled gently, she knew a compliment from Sherlock was rare indeed, but perhaps he was just drowsy. "So now that that is settled I propose an idea."

"Do tell."

"Moriarty likes me, we can use this to our advantage."

"What do you mean he likes you?" Sherlock frowned.

Rose sighed. "When Mycroft said that it "didn't go well" what he meant was that I..."

"Tried to end your life. I realized that when he said it." Sherlock informed.

Rose nodded. "Well anyway it wasn't Mycroft who had stopped me, it was Moriarty. He said he didn't want me dead; he wanted me on his side."

Sherlock put his fingers up into a triangle shape with the tips touching his bottom lip as he thought. Meanwhile Rose looked down at the rug. "I see Irene was here."

"Hm?"

"Irene. Addler?"

"And?"

"You noticed didn't you?"

"It wasn't relevant."

"Well, you're clearly stumped, and you haven't been showing off since I got here." Rose said, teasing him a bit with a smirk.

"I can't know everything Rose." He mumbled, but he looked guilty.

"I knew it."

He frowned. "Knew what?"

"She's getting to you."

"Who Irene?"

"Yes Irene, you noticed she got here. The high heel imprints on the carpet the vague smell of perfume in the room. She's got you hooked. You know she does it on purpose. There is no reason for her to kidnap someone wearing high heels and expensive perfume."

"Clever that you know it's expensive." Sherlock muttered.

Rose shrugged. "I've been around enough to know the difference. And you need to get your head out of the cloud of perfume and think." She chided.

Sherlock sighed and opened the window to let in the fresh air. After a few minutes he said, "He wants to trade you for John I know that. I also know that he wants you to meet him at the pool, the same one where I first met him." He muttered. "I smelled chlorine on the note Irene left." Sherlock said with a sigh. He looked conflicted.

Rose sighed then winced softly. Her wound was not getting any better at this rate and it was really paining her. "I know you feel bad because I saved your brother and possibly you, and despite that big brain of yours you do have a heart and you know John would be upset if he found out. But you need your friend. Mycroft says that you need me but I don't think you do, honestly. And I'm not being a sap, it's a fact, and one has to face the truth." Rose said gently.

"You're bleeding." Sherlock mumbled.

"So let me bleed." Rose shrugged. "We're going to get John back, and I'm going to try to give you a head start for as long as I can until I'm found out and probably killed, that's how it's going to be and that's how it should be."

"No it isn't." Sherlock looked distraught.

"You're just speaking for John. You don't have to." Rose said, trying to ease his guilt.

"I don't like being like this Rose. Not always. Not when I see things like John does for a second."

"And how is that?" Rose asked as the detective stood up. The sun rose up in the east as it always did and probably would for another thousand years. The glittering light filled the room gently and gracefully like a painting from Claude Monet.

"You'll give up your life for anyone but no one will do the same for you. That's what John would say. And here you are, your wound open and bleeding and you want to sacrifice yourself for a man you hardly know." Sherlock looked confused and angry at himself because he hated to be sentimental, but somehow it was as if John was in the room, making him see what Rose was doing.

"Maybe that will change someday." Rose said softly.

"Not if you do this." Sherlock muttered.

"Then perhaps that is my fate." Rose conceded, and it was quiet for a long while as the sun continued to creep up. Rose walked over to Sherlock who was standing by the window. "I'm going to go to Moriarty and I'm not going to mention John if I can, so he won't get suspicious."

"Right." Sherlock mumbled.

"I don't know how, but I have to get Moriarty to give John back and give him enough to think that I might earnestly be against you." Both Rose and Sherlock were staring out at the city below which was starting to wake.

"What will your angle be? You're far too soft to appear bitter."

Rose turned to him and glared. "Why would I want to be on the side of three men who couldn't care less whether I lived or died? I took a bullet for one and he nearly drove me to suicide, but Moriarty saved my life."

Sherlock was stunned at first, almost scared because she was so convincing. But she softened after she spoke and she smirked.

Sherlock had a little smile and as the sun continued to rise, he lost more of the gentleness that he had somehow found earlier. "You should go." Sherlock mumbled, then gave her the note Irene had left: Tell the Mouse that her savior is asking for her.

"Mm. I will." Rose nodded. "I'll get a cab." Rose started to walk out before turned and asked, "Could you tell me where your brother lives? I want to speak to him before the drama." Sherlock nodded then gave her his address and she left to hail a cab. She looked absolutely ridiculous wearing two different men's clothes while bleeding through Sherlock's purple shirt which, oddly enough, she felt guilty for. It was a nice shirt. Maybe she could buy him another one.

"Rough night?" The driver laughed, smirking.

"You could say that." She said with a chuckle.

"Where to?"

Rose gave the address, and was soon at the front gate of Mycroft's expensive house. She wasn't sure how to get around it at first. So she walked around until she found medium sized rock protruding out of the ground beside the roots of a tree. She stepped on it then took off her belt and swung it around a tree branch hanging above her. She then used the leverage to pull herself up while she stepped on the vertical bars until she found footing on the very top horizontal one and she made it over. She then ran to the house and looked around for an entrance point. She knew Mycroft didn't like it being musty so she hoped a window or two wouldn't be locked. Luckily, she was right, the one on the bottom floor wasn't and she slipped inside then shut it behind her. The floorboards creaked despite her petite frame and she walked around until she found the stairs and she went up. After a bit of searching she finally made it to the last room then opened the door. She saw that Mycroft was sound asleep in his bed. He was curled up in a little ball.

Rose came to him and smiled at first from thought of what he had said when he saw her sleeping in the hospital. He had commented on her sleeping position, yet he slept in the same. She gently shook his side. "Mycroft." She whispered. "Mycroft." She said again, and wiggled him with her hand. He made a groan in response and tried to swat her away. She huffed. "Mye!" Rose whined.

"Leave me alone Rose I'm sleeping."

"Not anymore." Rose said then shook him again. "And by the way you should increase your security, anyone could get in here."

"Not anyone." Mycroft grumbled then started to sit up. "Just you."

"What do you mean?"

"I told security that you might be coming. Usually they shoot all intruders on sight." Mycroft explained.

"You knew I'd come here?" Rose asked, but got a bad look from Mycroft so she stilled. "Listen, I need your help with something."

Mycroft glanced at her wound which was practically reopened. "Have you always been this foolish?"

Rose glared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You've reopened your wound, you took a bullet for me, and you're clearly risking yourself for John and by extension, Sherlock." Mycroft said, his eyes still droopy but his mind was waking up.

"Some would call that brave." Rose defended gently as she sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Bravery is but a synonym for foolishness." He grumbled. "What do you want Rose?"

"I want you to help me be even more foolish." Rose said, and gently touched his leg through the blankets.

"I have no desire to do that." He said. Rose noticed that he wore light blue pajamas. It was kind of cute, even though she found it sad that he was by himself so often.

"You don't have to, you owe me." Rose said, her eyes determined.

Mycroft sighed then glanced at her hand then her wound then finally he kept his eyes on her face. She looked so kind, yet determined and he thought she could do so much more if she didn't care so much. Or maybe... that's why she did anything at all. He wondered what it was like to be motivated by one's heart. It seemed like a pain to him. "What do you need?" He finally said after a long silence.

This was a long shot, and she could certainly die but it was almost out of her control. She had to do it, she had to take the long shots, and she had to put her life on the line to hope for a big pay-off. If she didn't work hard to keep them safe then... what was she really worth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long dear readers. I hope you enjoy this long chapter and remember to comment and give kudos if you liked it!
> 
> Thank you for being patient! :)


	8. Chapter 8: The Mouse Meets Moriarty

An hour later Rose received a call from Moriarty. He had said nothing but she understood the call to mean that Rose head out there immediately, alone. Her cab dropped her off at a public pool… at night. Rose walked through the corridors until she heard gentle splashing and she followed the sound until she saw a man half naked in the pool with his back facing her. The pool lights were on in the water but the lights outside of it were sparse and flickering, giving it an odd contrast between innocence and horror.

Rose tried to quietly open the pool gate but it squeaked and she cringed as the man turned around and came to her, soaking wet and donning a plastered smile. "Jim Moriarty; hi."

Rose looked at him straight in the eyes and said evenly. "We've met."

"Mhm I'm aware. Swim?" He asked naturally, as if it were so.

"I'm not dressed for it." Rose said calmly.

Moriarty then looked at her up and down. "Is that Sherlock's shirt? And John's pants? I didn't know you were that kinky."

She glared him daggers. "You're savvy enough to know what happened."

"Hm, a shame." Jim hummed, disappointed at the reality, yet it was clearly not genuine. He then began walking to his towel which was draped across a chair, he spoke a bit louder as he walked so she could hear, "I do appreciate your honesty though. It's one of the many things I love about you." He was clearly mocking the rest of the world for their obsession for the word. He took his towel and started to dry his chest.

"Why did you ask for me?" Rose said it as more of a statement than a question, she was steady and calculating but her hand was shaking a little which revealed her fear.

Jim beckoned her over to him and she took a deep breath then closed her eyes once to gather herself before she walked over to him. Once she was there he took his time drying his hair before he spoke, "Sherlock has his own little dearest, and Mycroft seems to be trying to have you as his own. Now both the Holmes' have their own little pet. That isn't quite fair is it? And besides, you outsmarted both the virgin and the iceman so I simply had to have you." He said, acting as if he were a shopper who just "had to have" a pair of shoes they saw in the window.

Rose ignored his first statement. "I told you, what happened isn't representative of-"

"Don't sell yourself short darling."

"I'm not, I'm just telling you what to expect because if I'm on your side I don't want to be given the responsibility of-"

"Please, next to Irene you'd be my smartest ace. I know you're not the most clever girl and you're not going to be consistent. But I like that. And the truth is, you figured out what I was intending quick enough to stop me. And you stopped a bullet for him, that's dedication." He smirked, but any smile never reached his eyes, which made it all the more chilling.

"I don't follow." Rose said, confused.

"Oh come on. You only stopped that bullet for him so you could be right, so you could beat me." He was showing slightly more emotion now.

Rose looked at him strangely. "I stopped that bullet because Mycroft is important to the world, and he is a good person, even if he is a little cold."

Now it was Jim's turn to look at her oddly. He was thoughtful for a time before he asked, "Why did you come here?"

"Because you asked me to."

"Don't play dumb Miss Winters." He decided then reached out with his wet hand to pet her hair. "It doesn't become you."

"I know you have John." Rose said, her face straight. "You made sure I would know that or else Irene did."

"You don't like her do you?"

"Not at all."

"Do you like me better then?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes I like you better."

He looked her over upon hearing this bit of information. He wondered if she were just trying to flatter him but from the disdain in her eyes he wasn't sure. Because if she were trying to put up an act she might have acted a bit better, more convincing.

When it was too quiet, Rose spoke. "Make no mistake I don't like either of you. But if I had to choose between having you dead or her, I would choose her." Rose said, using an analogy she knew he would appreciate. Jim was rather morbid.

"Why?" He asked. He was still damp from the water and Rose found it odd that he wasn't even shivering, as if that were too much emotion in it and of itself.

"Because she's flighty and a follower."

"That's not the reason Rose." He said, finally taking his hand away from her. "Tell me the real reason."

"I'd rather not. Besides this isn't the matter at hand. You have John and I want him safe, you also want me so you want to trade. I agree." Rose concluded.

"Good." Jim started to leave but Rose continued, "I have one condition." Jim stopped his movement and faced her as she spoke. "John is never to be harmed. Not now, not ever."

A fake smile delighted his features. "Done. But I do wonder how you intend to enforce this little… requirement."

Rose stepped closer to him and looked at him straight in the eyes. "I know that I can't. But I also know that you won't go against our deal, that isn't your style it seems. Besides, what's the harm in trying?" It was quiet again, Jim was just staring at her. It made her uneasy, her heart was racing but she bottled it up. "I need to see John. Where is he?"

"He's here." Jim said mysteriously and started to look around, turning in a circle. "You know… around."

"I'm bleeding at the moment, I'd prefer if you'd skip the dramatics."

"But that's what makes me fun, that's what makes me… me." He said, still cold and monotone. "You really should loosen up."

"John?!" Rose called, her voice echoing along the halls. It was quiet until Moriarty rolled his eyes and started whistling mindlessly. Then it wasn't long before John came out with two guards beside him. Rose looked scared yet relieved and ran to him, wrapping him up in a hug. "John! Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" Rose asked, gently cupping his cheek.

"No, no. I'm fine Rose." He said, in that sweet and gentle voice of his. Rose smiled then hugged him again.

"Oh please don't, you'll make me sick." Jim complained.

Rose ignored him and gently pet John's blond hair. "Listen John, you're going to be okay-"

"Where's Sherlock?" He frowned, confused.

Rose looked a little offended. "Sherlock isn't the only one who can save people you know." She sighed. "Moriarty asked for me, he wants to trade me for you." In a way she really wondered if she was just a pawn in all this... John didn't seem concerned for her well being, after everything. She wondered if she truly was doing what was best for her. It made her angry in a way.

"And Sherlock pushed you into it?" John asked. He was wearing his usual clothes, a scarf, blue sweater and jeans. "Are those my pants?"

"It's a long story, but no he didn't. I offered. But he certainly didn't protest." Rose said. In her eyes there was clearly sadness and even a little bitterness. She sighed in frustration. "I can't blame him. You're his best friend even if he doesn't admit it. He needs you more than me and I mean nothing to… either of them."

"But Mycroft-"

"I went to see Mycroft before all of this and he said that it was something I had to do. Neither Holmes' attempted to find a way out." Now she really did look bitter yet also determined. "Helping Sherlock and Mycroft and now you may be the last of my good deeds, and I thought I could belong with you three but clearly I… don't."

"But Rose this isn't you, what about your morals? What about when we went to the pond and fed the ducks you seemed so carefree-"

"That was before all of this John. That was before I knew I was a tool."

"And I suppose you won't be a tool for him then hm?" The good doctor asked, being sassy.

"I'll be his…" She searched for the right word. "John." Rose said. "Not second best. I haven't begged for anything in a long time John. It might not seem like it, but I wasn't always a desperate girl. When Mycroft came to me all of that naivety came rushing to the surface and I found myself fighting for attention or belonging again. This whole time I convinced myself I was trash so I wouldn't think of it as begging but humility. But I am not trash John. I always knew that but I didn't fully accept it until right this moment here. I deserve to be on the top. I may know that I will never be as clever as Sherlock or Mycroft or Moriarty or even Irene but damn it I am clever, and I can play with the rest of them."

"Sherlock and Mycroft are just cold. Rose, in time they-"

"I've made my choice John. At first I ran for the lot of you in a desperate attempt to feel close. I did my job. Both Sherlock and Mycroft are alive, and so are you. I gave you all a head start. Now I'm running after you." Rose paused then went to Moriarty’s side, who was watching all of this with interest. She actually literally sounded and acted a lot like him near the end of it. "So run fast."

John hurried out of there as quickly as he could, and Jim looked at Rose with a smirk. "You know there is something fiendishly attractive about you. I think it's... me." He said with a little quirk of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He then kissed her forehead with his cold lips, no emotion. Everything he did seemed to be some kind of stunt. "Now come on my dearest. We have work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments lovelies! You're all so wonderful and your positive feedback means the world to me! <3 <3


	9. A Lonely Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long!

"What did you do?" John was livid as he entered the flat. Sherlock was lying on the couch. "Oh hello, John you're back."

"Yes, I'm back, but Rose isn't." John glared. "How could you let her do this?"

"I do not have the power to let anyone do anything." Sherlock defended mildly.

"You know how she is. She would do anything for you, for any of us. How could you betray her like that?" John was glaring at Sherlock as the detective remained calm.

"Rose offered to-"

"She idolized you, and now she's turning to that-that psychopath for comfort." John's heart was racing from anger. Rose was so sweet and dear to him already. He saw how smart and caring she was. He didn't understand how Sherlock could be so cold.

"Rose and I had a deal before she left. She is going to be a double agent for us until-" Sherlock stopped.

"Until... Until he kills her?" John asked in fury. "She deserves happiness more than any of us and you just led a lamb to the slaughter."

"Rose can take care of herself."

"And what about Mycroft?" John asked, crossing his arms.

"What about him?"

"He likes her Sherlock."

The detective actually laughed. "Mycroft doesn't like anyone. I'll admit at one point I thought that maybe he did but when you say it out loud it's actually quite funny."

"You need to find a way to get her back. And if you don't, I'll go to Mycroft." John said and was about to leave, but Sherlock spoke, which stopped him. "She saw Mycroft before she left. If he tried to stop her or find a way out of it he clearly wasn't successful."

John didn't know what to do. No one seemed to care about what happened to Rose. "Fine. Fine. I'll go get her myself." John said and grabbed his coat. "I need my pants back anyway." He mumbled.

"John don't be an idiot." Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes as he laid on the couch.

"I'd rather be an idiot than a monster." John hissed.

"John." Sherlock said as John opened the door. "Rose will be fine."

"Yeah? And how do you know that?" John glared, his arms folded.

"Because she's clever John. Cleverer than all of us."

John was quiet for a while then shook his head. "I saw the look in her eyes, Sherlock, she hates both of you now. She wants to be with him." John looked disgusted by the thought that a sweet girl would stand beside a maniac like Moriarty.

"No she doesn't John. She is only pretending that she's with him." Sherlock informed.

"Well she must be doing a bang-up job because she's got me fooled as well. She's talking like him, she's bitter, in her eyes-"

"Mimicking, John. She's mimicking him."

"What?" John frowned.

"She's an empathetic girl right? She feels things more richly than any of us can probably imagine. Because of that, she can be a chameleon, she can attach herself to one type of person and act in a way that pleases them. It's a sales technique John, and if she even has you fooled then she's mastered it." Sherlock said, sitting up now.

John frowned but calmed down, still looking worried. "You never showed faith in her before."

Sherlock looked down at first. "I know."

John sighed, and it was quiet for a long while. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"She'll be fine." Sherlock mumbled.

"You don't even believe yourself." John said quietly, and Sherlock's expression clearly darkened. "I know." He mumbled.

"Then I was right, we need to get her out-"

"If you are so insistent on getting her out of the exact place that she put herself in, the place where she can help us most, then you are going to have to do it yourself." Sherlock huffed.

"Where is your brother?" John asked.

"Do I look like my brother's keeper?" Sherlock retorted.

"You know, she was bleeding when I saw her." John said.

"I know. She said to let her bleed." Sherlock mumbled.

"Oh, is that what she told you?" John asked in disbelief.

"Yes, John." Sherlock said, getting annoyed. John said nothing else, he simply left.

Rose ended up sleeping in a motel room that night. Moriarty had been "kind" enough to bandage her up and he said that he would pay for her to take another visit to the doctor the following morning. The room she was now in was dark and lifeless. It was the very personification of brokenness. How many men had cheated on their wives in this room? How many people had passed out drunk? How many gambling addicts have come here when their spouse kicked them out? How many tears had been shed in this very motel room?

Rose was very depressed by the thought and her delicate little face showed it. She rubbed her hands together and sighed. Perhaps she was the oddest story this room had seen. A young woman who let herself be captive in the name of three men she hardly knew, a bullet hole in her from her bravery. She sighed then sat on the end of the bed. For the longest time, she had said in her mind or out loud, "I want to go home." But really she had no "home" in mind. It was just the idea of a "home" a safe haven. She'd never had that, but still, when she was sad or stressed she'd think, "I want to go home..." That's what she thought now too. But this time her mind conjured up the image of flat 221b. She laughed at herself. She didn't belong with them. Not everything she told Moriarty was a lie. She knew that the best lie was the truth, and most of it was actually how she felt, except that she wouldn't betray them like that. Should she? "Maybe..." She sighed aloud.

She looked down at her hands then closed her eyes. She hated this about herself sometimes. She was like a little puppy, going to whoever gave her sweetness and seemed good. And she would be so loyal, and people would just... abuse her. Why couldn't she be like Moriarty? He did whatever suited him and no one could hurt him even if they tried. But Moriarty was hollow, he was barely a man anymore. He was obsessed and deranged and cold. Whoever he used to be died a long time ago, and what was resurrected in him was a monster. Even though a soft heart is the mockery of many, only the strongest and purest of people can go through a world of horrors and betrayals and still have a heart full of love to give. And if one learns from their mistakes they will know which people to trust and which not to, so they can continue to love easily.

Rose thought of this and sighed. Were these three boys' people she should be investing in so heavily? Or will she be hurt again? Sherlock already had no problem trading her in, but maybe he just trusted her. Rose shook her head then covered her face with her little hands, so confused.

She didn't know when she had fallen asleep but she was surprised when she had woken up in the morning and was also overwhelmed. She was all alone, pretending to be aligned with this hollow man. Rose sometimes pretended that she didn't care about her life but she was scared, so scared, not of death but of how she might die at the hands of this maniac, should she fail. There was a knock at the door and she jumped in fear then timidly went to the door, her hands were shaking so she took in a deep breath and tried to steady herself before she looked through the peephole. It was Jim. Rose unlocked the door then opened it. "Don't tell me I slept in." Rose said with humor to deflect her fear.

"Mm. No. But you are going to be late for your appointment if you don't hurry." He said then showed her a zipped up garment bag. "Do me a favor and look less like a 'baker street irregular'."

Rose took the clothes and looked confused. "Don't you have people to do this for you?"

"Hm?" He asked, looking at his fingernails instead of her.

Rose frowned then gently lifted up his chin with her fingers so he would look at her before she touched the garment back with both hands again. "Why did you come here to give me clothes?"

"You ask far too many questions miss Rose. The key to being skilled is not needing to." He said then turned around, walking away as he said. "Come back out and meet me when you're done."

Rose closed the door then breathed out a sigh. In the garment bag were some undergarments and a little black dress with red swirls all along it. Rose got dressed then hid John's and Sherlock's clothes in the room so that maybe they could find them if they went looking for her or maybe she could come back here after everything was all over and she could give the boys their clothes back. After that, she ran her fingers through her hair before she left to meet Jim like he'd asked.


	10. Her Umbrella

Rose was sent to a luxury hotel and when she was told to get out of the car, Moriarty threatened that if she were to try to contact Sherlock in any way that he would know and she would be killed. She assured that she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Good." He said, then got out and handed her a key card. "I have a running tab on that card. I won't be back for a while, so do anything you want as long as it is in the hotel, and within reason, god don't be a breeding little whore." He rolled his eyes and on instinct she smacked him across the face with a glare, absolutely seething.

At first, he was frozen in shock, his face to the side. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up until slowly a grin had formed. "My, I wasn't expecting that." He said, cracking his neck; his eyes alight with sinister playfulness. "There aren't many who can surprise me." His voice was monotone as always but his expression showed amusement, yet he still seemed hollow at the same time.

"Then you should be around better people." She sassed, then turned to leave. She then said without looking back, "Expect a hefty bill."

Moriarty wet his lips as he looked after her then nodded up at a man who was standing beside another car which Jim was going to transfer into. He had to switch cars once and a while so he wouldn't be easy to track.

Rose couldn't believe some of the things she did or said sometimes. It was so random! She would just feel a burst of energy awaken and she wasn't shy anymore. Luckily, Moriarty didn't dislike her for it, but that was just a lucky break.

She spent the next nine hours renting movies, buying desserts, getting spa treatments, and buying stuff she didn't need from the gift shop, all in the name of racking up a big bill. But as she did all of this she couldn't help but worry terribly over Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. She frowned as she sat on her hotel bed, cross-legged, as she watched TV with a bowl of ice cream in her lap, grumbling to herself about how she shouldn't care about any of them really and they didn't care about her. 

An hour later a doctor came up to her room and re-stitched up her wound and cleaned it before leaving. She sighed then she jerked in fright when the phone rang. It was Moriarty no doubt and she was already on edge even though she hadn't even spoken to him yet. She took a deep breath before she answered it. "Hello?"

"Rosemary." Moriarty said, his dull voice somehow hinting at a blank smile. "Come down to the lobby, will you? We have dinner reservations."

Rose could clearly hear in his voice that these "dinner reservations" had something sinister attached to them. She almost laughed, because if she had said this aloud with Sherlock present he would undoubtedly say some sarcastic retort about her "stating the obvious". She responded to Moriarty, "I'll be down in a while, I need to do my hair."

"I'm sure it looks lovely." He droned in that Dublin accent of his.

"I won't be long." Rose said, her voice confident and yet... she was not. She hung up the phone then realized that she was clenching her teeth. She was working and acting in direct contrast of how she felt and it was starting to tear her at the seams.

She fixed up her hair as she said she would, and all the while she tried to figure out what Moriarty could possibly be planning. She couldn't conjure up any ideas. Surely Sherlock would have known, though she didn't know how. She sighed. Even if she didn't know what would happen she had to gather her nerve. So, any anxiety, fear, or tears that she might have shed were put away for the time being and she left the room with her shoulders back and head held high.

When she walked down the stairs to the lobby Moriarty whistled, his eyes dead as always. Rose was certain that he did things like this out of his own amusement than any actual emotional expression.

Moriarty drove her to an elegant restaurant and led her inside. Rose wore her black dress with the red swirls that Moriarty had brought her. It was tight fitted, following the curves of her petite breasts and hugged her hourglass figure, flaring at her hips. Her long brown hair lay along her shoulders in waves, and despite her best efforts, it was still a bit frizzy because she didn't have the time nor the right equipment to make it look better. As Rose looked around she noticed the people's legs for some odd reason, as they sat at their booths. Once and a while she would look at a room and see something in a different view than usual. Today it was that, and that's how she saw that one of the customers had an umbrella sticking out from where he sat. Her heart pounded in her chest as Moriarty led her to their seat, which was right behind Mycroft's table. Moriarty rolled his eyes then turned around in his seat on his knees. "Listen, I know you're Sherlock's brother, but I was more hoping to see the actual Sherlock. He's much more fun. Even though it would be interesting to see what you think of what is about to happen." Moriarty said evilly.

Mycroft tilted his head just a bit and blinked a few times with an amused smile. "I know what is about to happen, and I am perfectly alright with it."

Rose looked confused and she looked around the room, noticing tiny devices under the tables with little red blinking lights. Moriarty snapped his fingers at her. "Hey, eyes on me sexy."

Rose's cheeks flushed not in flattery but in surprise. His words were meant to claim her as his own which she hadn't realized he'd wanted. Mycroft became quiet, even more stoic than usual as he saw all of this. "Let her leave here safely and you can do as you please."

"She can leave at any time. I'm not holding her here." Moriarty said with a little smirk. 

"Somehow, I don't believe that." Mycroft responded confidently but Moriarty kept talking as if he said nothing. "And that just burns you, doesn't it? To have lost your precious little... mouse. And to me of all people." He looked so smug as he jeered at the eldest Holmes brother.

Mycroft showed no emotion, however. "Why do you want to blow up the restaurant?"

"For funsies." He said with mild cheerfulness and a devious, sadistic, smirk. 

Rose looked around again while Moriarty was busy and noticed that everyone in the restaurant looked rather nervous and... their hands. She remembered to look at them. They were calloused or scratched, otherwise beaten up. This was an expensive restaurant and yet the people here didn't quite fit the part...

"Come here baby." Moriarty called, despite the fact that Rose clearly seemed nervous about something. Rose very timidly came to him and he set her on his lap. Mycroft's hands clenched until his knuckles turned white but otherwise he seemed the same as before. Moriarty gingerly pet her hair. "So fragile, life is. But I will protect you if you stay with me. I know they will try to tempt you otherwise but I'll always be there, watching, waiting, protecting what's mine. And you are mine, Rosemary. All mine..." He opened his mouth, his tongue out as he went into to kiss her, rather possessively from the looks of it but suddenly the back table exploded and their lips never touched. He rolled his eyes. "God damn it."

Mycroft got up then swiftly took out his gun and pointed it at Moriarty's head. "Let her go." He said simply and coldly and Moriarty looked disinterested as he slowly let go of the young woman. Rose got off his lap carefully. She had tried not to show her disdain for the man throughout all of this lest he become her enemy and she followed Mycroft out of the restaurant. He took her far away from the place as it blew up.

"You knew, didn't you?" Rose smiled, her eyes alight, back to her normal self. "Somehow you knew and replaced the customers." Mycroft looked nothing but confused and almost... younger, somehow.

Just then Sherlock and John came. "Oh thank god you're alright." Watson said, panting from running from afar.

"Next time, give me the controls, you get too... emotional." Sherlock scolded.

"That psychopath was going to kiss her!" John defended.

"Probably a sociopath but whatever." Sherlock said.

Rose was trying to piece this all together. "So... Mycroft figured out what was happening, replaced the customers beforehand and you two had gained control of the explosives, right?"

It was quiet for a while and just as Sherlock made a motion to speak, John spoke up. "Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Mycroft and Sherlock looked at each other, then Mycroft glanced down and Sherlock looked confused but knew he would talk to his brother later, but Rose was too focused on John to notice the silent exchange between the brothers. "Really John? Because you can tell me the truth. Those weren't regular people... were they?"

John was sincere. "No! Don't worry Rose, they were prisoners, terror threats actually, the worst kind of people you could imagine. No one will miss them."

Rose nodded and finally, suddenly, started crying. John instantly hugged her and looked worried for the woman, who had been through so much in such a little amount of time. "I'm so sorry for crying." She sniffled.

"No, don't be. It's alright, it's perfectly normal, and you've been so brave." John assured, then kissed her head softly. "We'll take you home now so you can have some time to yourself."

"No, please. I want to be with at least one of you." Rose begged.

"O-Of course, yes, you can stay with us. I'll sleep on the couch." John offered.

"Are you sure John?"

"Absolutely." John said in that incredibly kind voice of his. He had such a big heart and Rose was drawn to it. "Thank you." She said quietly.

Sherlock gave a look to his brother which said he wanted to talk to him in private when they got back to Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported the story so far! <3


	11. Mycroft's Confession

When the three of them made it to 221B, Rose went to take a shower and John went to get some food for the lot of them, leaving Sherlock and Mycroft alone to talk. Mycroft looked down at his umbrella which he was using as a cane, he clearly looked guilty about something.

Sherlock sighed then spoke. "You didn't know that we switched the customers out did you?"

Mycroft remained motionless. "No."

"But Rose went to talk to you, I assumed she wanted you to help her with something."

"And I did. She said to give her the most advanced tracker I had so that we could find her." Mycroft explained. "I still don't understand how you were able to switch out the customers with prisoners without my permission."

"I stole your key card and told the guards there to help us. Amazing what you can do just by being aggressive, you should really get better security, and I believe you're trying to get me off the fact that you were willing to sacrifice an entire restaurant of people for the safety of one woman, that woman being Rose." Sherlock spoke all at once and swiftly.

"You make it sound as if I have... feelings for her when all I wanted was to repay what Rose did for me..." He looked down at his hand which was holding his umbrella handle before looking up at Sherlock again.

"You've never felt loyal to anything in your life unless it meant you'd get something in return."

"That's not quite fair, brother mine." Mycroft said. "I've always looked after you. Whether you're a pest or not." 

Sherlock sighed. His brother was right, in a way. Not that he would admit that. "So you're looking after Rose now?"

"Don't twist my words that's not what I said." Mycroft huffed. "Besides what exactly were you planning on doing if I wasn't there?"

"I was going to go talk to Moriarty and stall but we saw you go in and had to readjust. If we were both in there I was worried it would provoke him more. Well, John was more worried than I was."

Mycroft heard Rose patter out of the shower in some pj's and the two boys stopped talking until she went inside John's room to freshen up.

Once the door closed Sherlock and Mycroft were caught in an awkward silence until John came back a few minutes later and he noticed the scene. "Um... Is everything alright?" He put the food in the kitchen then came back out.

Sherlock looked at Mycroft to explain everything and he did. John looked confused and at a loss for words. He honestly wasn't sure how he would have been able to make such a decision. The strangest part was that Moriarty hadn't even put that choice to Mycroft to begin with. Mycroft beat him to it and already gave an answer as if it were nothing. John finally broke the silence once more. "No one else mattered... but her." He said partially to himself before looking at Mycroft who seemed to be trying to hide a part of himself that John and Sherlock were trying to uncover.

Then the boys could hear Rose giggling. John knocked on the door and Rose called for him to come in and the three investigated. She was jumping on the bed in her pjs and laughing, such life and happiness in her eyes. A feeling she hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. "Come on guys anyone want to jump with me?"

Mycroft was behind both of them and should they have turned around they would have seen the smallest, softest of smiles alight in his expression.

John smiled and shook his head. "Shouldn't you be resting, you're still healing you know."

"Aww!" Rose chuckled and gently stopped, still standing on the bed.

"He's right." Mycroft said, trying to look serious now. "You should be resting." Despite his want, there was a hint of softness in his voice and the two men turned to look at him. Thusly he made a face then said, "For work tomorrow. Don't be late. No excuses." He then swiftly turned around and started to leave but Rose had gotten off the bed and hugged him from behind. "Thank you Mye."

He became utterly embarrassed and said curtly, "Don't call me that." Before he wiggled out of her grasp and went out the door. 

Rose sighed sadly and John smiled at her. "Don't worry he appreciates it I'm sure."

"Not likely." Sherlock mumbled.

"Sherlock." John scolded.

"What? It's true."

Rose came up to him. "Does he really not like me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked at John then at Rose. "I am not at liberty to speak for my brother. Now go to bed."

"I didn't eat yet! And I'm not a child you know. Just because I'm little does not mean you can boss me around." Rose decided though she headed for the bedroom.

"You called Mycroft "Mye" what does that say?" 

"Maybe I was trying to see how he'd react." Rose said smugly then went to the bedroom and cuddled up with the blankets, sleeping.

"Do you really think he'll ever love anyone?" John asked confusedly.

Sherlock sighed. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Well, he's your brother."

Sherlock could tell that John wasn't going to let this go so he answered him. "I don't know if he has the capacity to love. But the closest he has ever gotten is Rose I know that for sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support everyone, your comments have honestly kept this story alive. I hope you're all doing great! :)


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